Broken Pieces
by trakster52
Summary: The Girl Who Lived. The Chosen One. Over the years, Jamie Potter has been called many things by the witches and wizards who hold her on an unattainable pedestal, who idolize the image of their savior. But they don't know the real Jamie — her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No one truly knows the story of the girl entrusted with the fate of the wizarding world. Until now. (Fem!Harry)
1. New Beginnings

**Hello, dear reader! Thank you for taking the time to check out this fic! This is a fem!Harry story, so if that isn't your cup of tea, then you have been warned. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. The only thing I own is Jamie Potter.**

 **Chapter 1: New Beginnings**

* * *

As she stared into the darkness that surrounded her on all sides, the young girl who lived in the house at number 4 Privet Drive thought, as she usually did during long hours spent in the dark. She thought, not for the first time, of her parents, both of whom felt more like characters from a story than her mother and father; of the looming summer holidays, and of which hiding places she would use to escape her cousin and his gang; and, with a venomous scowl, of how much she absolutely, unequivocally hated being locked up in the cupboard under the stairs, which had been the only bedroom she'd ever known.

Her mind's wanderings, however, were merely a distraction — or a feeble attempt at one — from the painful rumblings of her stomach, which had not been filled for some time. She had never been shut up in her cupboard for so long before, and since she'd only last eaten the previous day at lunchtime, she was dreadfully hungry.

Though she longed to sneak into the kitchen and swipe even the tiniest bit of food from one of the cabinets, she didn't dare. Her aunt and uncle were already angrier than she'd ever seen them before; stealing a midnight snack, however necessary it was, would only make things worse for her.

She didn't even understand why she was being punished. Despite what Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon thought, she had no idea how the glass at the zoo had disappeared. Plus, even if she'd had anything to do with it — which she swore she didn't — it wouldn't have been her fault. Whenever something strange or unusual happened, it was always because of her cousin, Dudley. Dudley would push her, torment her, chase after her, and something strange would happen, something she couldn't explain to her aunt and uncle, and then she would find herself shut up in her cupboard once again.

If there was anything she hated more than that stupid, dark, spider-infested cupboard, it was her aunt, uncle, and cousin. Though she had vied for their affection and love when she was younger, she was far less naive now — she knew they would never accept her, let alone love her. All three of them were just a bunch of bullies.

As she slowly slipped into sleep's embrace, Jamie Potter wished, with everything she had, for a chance — a chance to escape from the Dursleys, a chance to change her awful life in the cupboard under the stairs.

Little did she know how quickly that chance would arrive.

The summer holidays were supposed to be a fun time for children. There was no school, no homework, and no obligation, just hours of time to spend playing outside with friends.

For Jamie, however, summer meant chores, running from Dudley's gang, and roaming the neighborhood to avoid her relatives.

Though this was the same routine as the summer before, that didn't make Jamie any less lonely. She had no friends to play with — everyone was too scared of Dudley to befriend his strange cousin — and she knew the mothers at the park would never see past her ratty old hand-me-down clothes to let their children play with her.

Jamie had a feeling that this summer was going to be the worst one yet; that is, until the letter arrived, and her life took a very unexpected turn.

The day had started like any other. Jamie woke to the sound of Aunt Petunia rapping on the door to the cupboard, ordering her to get up and start making breakfast. Uncle Vernon sat at the table reading his newspaper, hardly looking up when Jamie walked into the room. Dudley came thundering down the stairs, knocking his bloody Smeltings stick against everything, including Jamie's shins.

Jamie had just sat down to eat her breakfast when they all heard the mailman deliver the day's mail.

"Mail's here!" Dudley informed them, as if they hadn't heard the click of the mail slot.

Uncle Vernon grumbled from behind his newspaper for Dudley to go retrieve it, but when the spoiled brat demanded that Jamie get the mail, Vernon barked at his niece to do it instead.

Jamie, not wanting to cause a fight so early in the morning, reluctantly set down her bacon and got up without a word. She hated how complacent she was, willing to follow whatever her aunt and uncle made her do, but it was either do what they said, or end up in the cupboard again, something she was _not_ looking to repeat. Bending down to grab the mail, Jamie began plotting ways to get revenge on Dudley.

All thoughts of revenge, however, quickly left her mind as she began sifting through the small pile of letters and bills. There were two bills for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, a postcard from Vernon's sister Marge, and _a letter addressed to Jamie_.

Astonished, Jamie brushed her bright red bangs away from her eyes, trying to make sure she'd read that right. But there it was, clear as day — Ms. J Potter, the cupboard under the stairs. Jamie stared at the letter in disbelief; she _never_ received mail. Maybe this was a prank, a joke from the Dursleys to make her life even more miserable. The Dursleys didn't like jokes, though. They discouraged anything creative or out of the regular routine.

"What on earth is taking so long?" Uncle Vernon shouted from the kitchen, making Jamie jump. "I haven't got all day, you know!"

Thinking quickly, Jamie took her letter from the pile of mail and shoved it in the crack under her cupboard door. She knew whatever it was, the Dursleys would take it from her immediately, and she wouldn't be able to read what it said.

Once she was sure the letter was safely tucked away, Jamie made her way back into the kitchen and handed her uncle the mail, her thoughts back in her cupboard for the rest of the meal. She wondered who the letter could be from, since she had no friends and no other relatives.

Normally, Jamie hated the list of chores Aunt Petunia made her do every day, as they were often long, boring, and dirty. While Dudley would sit around in the air-conditioned house playing video games or go to a friend's house, Jamie would be pulling weeds, mowing the lawn, or washing the car, covered in sweat and longing for a bit of water. Today, however, she didn't mind her chores; they gave her plenty of time to think about the letter.

Thoughts of the letter stayed with her as she sat by herself in the park, deliberately ignoring the neighborhood mothers as they sneered at her baggy hand-me-down shirt from Dudley and her pants (also from Dudley) that were so big they trailed after her when she walked. The whole thing was very unusual, she decided, playing with her long red hair to pass the time.

She decided this because whoever had sent the letter had chosen a rather odd time to do it. If it was some long lost relative that she hadn't known existed, they had waited an awful while to send her a letter, seeing as she had been living with the Dursleys for nearly a decade, ever since her parents died when she was a baby.

At the thought of her parents Jamie grew dejected. She had never known them, and she wished she could learn more about them. But Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had forbidden her from asking any questions about anything, _especially_ her parents. It was for this reason that Jamie hoped, however unlikely, the letter was from one of her parents' friends, because then, she imagined, they could tell everything she never knew about her mum and dad.

That day, Jamie was sure, had to have been one of the longest ever. The minutes and hours seemed to stretch on and on, leaving Jamie anxious and impatient as she waited for the end to come. All she wanted as she sat through Aunt Petunia's awful dinner was to sneak into her cupboard, rip open the letter, and find answers to the questions that had been bothering her all day.

Only after Jamie had cleared the table, wrapped the leftovers, and washed the dishes did Uncle Vernon absentmindedly wave her away and send her to bed while he and Dudley watched television and Petunia spied on the neighbors.

Trying not to look too eager, Jamie slowly walked to the cupboard, opened the door, and shut herself inside. Finally, she had her chance to see what this was all about. Very carefully, so as not to alert her relatives to what she was doing, Jamie used her nail to pop open the seal on the back of the envelope and shook the letter out as quietly as she could. Since the Dursleys were still awake, there was just enough light coming into the cupboard for Jamie to read what was written.

 _Dear Ms. Potter, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Witchcraft and wizardry… If Jamie was accepted to this school for witches and wizards, did that mean that she was…

"A witch," she whispered in amazement, before clamping a hand over her mouth. She strained her ears to make sure the Dursleys hadn't heard her; they were laughing obnoxiously at the television, and Jamie let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

It had to be a mistake, though. There was no way Jamie could be a witch. Witches were supposed to be brilliant and powerful and Jamie was neither of those.

But the more she considered it, her being a witch put into perspective many of the strange occurrences in her life — especially how the glass at the zoo had disappeared. Despite her initial uncertainty, Jamie actually began to grow excited at the thought of being a witch.

With renewed enthusiasm, Jamie looked at the second piece of paper that was in the envelope: a list of supplies that she would need for school.

As quickly as it came, her excitement faded. Everything on that list would cost an awful lot of money — money that Jamie didn't have — and she had no doubts that the Dursleys would never pay for any of it. Plus, she had no idea where to purchase many of the items on the list. Though she had never been there, she didn't think she would be able to find a magic wand or a cauldron at one of the shops in London.

Jamie sighed, defeated. What could she do? There was no way she would ask the Dursleys for any help, they would only laugh in her face. And she had no one else to go to for advice.

 _Or maybe she did._

Eyes falling on the first page of the letter, Jamie was suddenly struck with an idea. Perhaps someone at the school could help her, if she could only figure out a way to ask them.

* * *

 **Welcome to the end of chapter! Glad you made it this far.**

 **This is my first fanfic ever and I'm very excited about it! I'd really appreciate if you could leave a review for me, if you wouldn't mind. Thanks!**


	2. An Unexpected Arrival

**Hi there! Welcome to Chapter 2! Sorry it took me awhile, life happens sometimes. My goal is to post at least once a month, so hopefully if you like Jamie and her story, you can stick with me until then! Also, thank you to Love Faith Embers, 1seddiefan, and AnnDal for leaving a review on Chapter 1, and a very big thank you to vortexFM for your wonderfully lovely review! I really appreciate it! Now, without further ado, Chapter 2! Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 2: An Unexpected Arrival**

* * *

 _Will today be the day?_

For nearly a week, the question plagued Jamie's thoughts, nagging at her as she did her chores or hid from Dudley. She couldn't help it - she hadn't heard anything back from the woman who wrote the letter from Hogwarts, and she was beginning to worry that her response had been lost in transit.

Of course, Jamie hadn't the faintest idea how fast mail traveled by owl, so really, she might not have had a reason to fret. But Jamie had never sent a letter via an owl before; she'd never known that one could use owls for communication at all. In the back of her mind, a voice whispered viciously about the mistake she had made in going off the words of someone she had never even met.

The idea had come to her the morning after she'd opened the letter from Hogwarts and found out she was a witch. She had by chance woken up earlier than normal, likely from the excitement of the previous day, and had taken the opportunity to carefully sneak into the kitchen. When Jamie had returned to the cupboard, her hands full of supplies, she sat on her old, worn out mattress and began to write. The sound of pen on paper had filled the tiny space as she explained to no one in particular the details of the predicament she was in, and asked for any advice they could give. Once she was satisfied with the length and contents, she had folded the paper up, shoved it into an envelope, and wrote _Hogwarts_ on the front.

The problem then was to find a way to send her response back to the school - there was no return address on the thick envelope she had received, and she doubted she would find Hogwarts in the phone book.

That was where her idea came into play.

In the letter, the Deputy Headmistress, Professor Minerva McGonagall, had said _"We await your owl no later than July 1."_

So wizards used owls, apparently. Jamie had gone over this revelation in her mind again and again as she sat in the park that day, trying to think of how she could use this to her advantage, when a very strange thing happened.

As she had stared off, lost in thought, the sound of fluttering wings had reached her ears, and Jamie had turned to see a very live, very real owl sitting next to her on the bench. It had looked up at her almost expectantly. Jamie blinked, but it hadn't been an illusion - there was an actual owl right next to her, in broad daylight. Glancing around the park to make sure that no one was looking, she had leaned down, feeling very silly.

"Do… do you know where Hogwarts is?" she had asked awkwardly. The owl had clicked its beak, which Jamie assumed meant yes. She'd pulled her letter from the waistband of her jeans, where she'd been keeping it all day, and held it out. "Er, could you maybe take this letter there, to someone named Professor McGonagall?"

Hooting softly, the owl had grabbed the letter from her hand and taken off. Jamie had watched it leave, wishing she could go with it.

Now, as she laid on her old mattress a week later, staring up at the bottom of the stairs, Jamie wondered whether Professor McGonagall had received the letter yet, or if she had made a very big mistake.

* * *

Jamie was startled awake the next morning by the doorbell and Aunt Petunia's shrill voice. She had been having a wonderful dream - though the details were getting hazier by the second, and she didn't actually know what they looked like, she was sure her mum and dad had been there.

But then Aunt Petunia was screeching at her from the kitchen to get the door, leaving Jamie little time to think on her dream. Why anyone thought it a good idea to come visit this early in the morning was beyond her.

"Ringing the doorbell at this ungodly hour," hissed a voice from the kitchen. "The nerve of some people."

Apparently Aunt Petunia agreed with her - that was a first.

As she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, Jamie stumbled out of her cupboard and down the hallway. She was still in her pajamas, she thought, but she supposed she could always hide behind the door if the visitor was one of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's friends. Jamie reached for the handle, turned, and pulled open the door.

Standing on the welcome mat, clad in long robes of emerald green, was a very stern-looking woman. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun and her features made Jamie think that she was not someone to be crossed, but behind her glasses, her eyes were soft.

Jamie stared, open mouthed, at the strange woman. She swore she saw something flash briefly in the woman's eyes, something close to surprise, then anger, then - nothing. Shaking her head, Jamie pulled herself out of her trance and asked, "Can I help you?"

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was almost giddy with excitement. Though she was well aware that she was acting a tad childish, she couldn't help it - after nearly a decade, she was finally going to see James and Lily's little girl again.

The last Minerva had seen the girl, she was just a tiny little thing; Minerva could hold her in the crook of her arm. She wondered what the girl was like — whether she was more like James or Lily, whether she would play Quidditch or prefer to stay in the library, whether her favorite class would be Transfiguration or Charms.

In the back of her mind, she hoped Albus had made the right decision in leaving the savior of the wizarding world with these Muggles.

Minerva stepped up onto the front stoop, pushed the doorbell, and waited. From inside, she heard a woman's voice, sharp and unpleasant even through the thick wood, call out to someone, and then shuffling feet, a muffled yawn. As the shuffling came closer, Minerva steeled herself for whatever she might see beyond the entrance of number four, Privet Drive. But when the front door opened, Minerva found she was completely unprepared for the sight that greeted her.

A young girl, no older than ten or eleven, had answered the door. She wore oversized plaid pajama pants that dragged after her feet and a baggy, ratty old shirt, both of which were so dingy Minerva was sure they hadn't been washed anytime recently. Her hair was messy and tangled and unbrushed.

But more than that, she was _Lily_ , right down to her almond-shaped, brilliant green eyes and fiery red hair. Even though she swore the baby she dropped off ten years ago with Albus and Hagrid had a small mess of her father's jet black hair, the child staring up at Minerva McGonagall was a perfect replica of her mother.

In that moment, Minerva felt a wave of emotions - joy, surprise, shock, anger, fury; though she tried to hide them, tried to keep her face blank for the girl's sake, she was sure she hadn't done the best job.

"Can I help you?"

The question was so innocent, but her face nearly broke Minerva's heart. It was thin and pale; where a second before it had filled with wonder and amazement, wariness and caution had painted over. Her eyes — _Lily's eyes_ — were distrustful, soft in a way they shouldn't have been.

"Yes, I believe you can," Minerva said. She had to force herself to look anywhere but those haunting eyes. "Could I see Miss Potter? I'd like to speak to her."

The young girl's face filled with excitement and confusion, but before she could open her mouth to respond, a woman came marching down the hallway and all but shoved the child behind her body. Her blonde hair was meticulously styled, and her features reminded Minerva very strongly of a horse. This, she assumed, was Lily's sister Petunia, though how someone like that could be related to Lily Evans, she'd never know.

"Excuse me," Petunia started in a nasty tone, "but I demand to know what your business is here."

Minerva blinked, but pushed forward, undeterred. "I am looking for a Miss Potter. I would like to speak with her about something very important."

"There's no one in this house with that name," Petunia snapped. "So if that's all, I would ask you to kindly leave at once."

With every word that spewed out of Petunia's mouth, Minerva felt her patience waning. She knew that was a complete lie - she had literally delivered the Potters' baby girl to this doorstep ten years ago. Plus, there was no way Minerva would believe the word of someone like Petunia Dursley.

Glancing inside the house, Minerva saw a small head peeking out from the kitchen. As soon as she had heard Petunia deny the existence of her niece, the young girl's face had fallen, and it seemed as though any hope she'd had disappeared. Her hair, Minerva noticed curiously, was a much darker red than it had been a minute before.

"Well, I do beg your pardon, but I really must insist," Minerva said. "I'm quite sure the girl lives in this house."

"No, she doesn't!" hissed Petunia. "You are very much mistaken, so you must leave. I'll not ask again."

At that moment, someone came thundering down the stairs. He was a very large man, big and beefy with not much neck. The bushy mustache that lived above his lips bounced angrily with his every step. As soon as Vernon Dursley laid eyes on Minerva, the corners of his mouth curled up.

"What do you want?" he sneered.

Petunia turned to look at him and whispered harshly, "She's asking about _her_."

Minerva felt her blood boil. She had been right all those years ago - these people really were the worst sort of Muggles she had ever seen. This girl was their niece, their own blood, and they spoke about her like she was some disgusting creature. James and Lily would have been furious.

Vernon gave Minerva a sickly smile. "I'm sorry, but the person you're looking for does not live here, so I must insist-"

"I'm sorry, _sir_ ," Minerva said, her voice like ice, "but _I_ must insist. I must take Miss Potter to purchase her school supplies."

" _School supplies?_ "

"Yes," Minerva said crossly. "Your niece has been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I have come to help her find and purchase the supplies she will need when term begins."

At the mention of Hogwarts, both Vernon and Petunia's faces paled. They exchanged stricken looks, before Vernon turned behind him to his niece. Minerva couldn't see his walrus-like features, but she didn't have to guess his expression.

"Did you know about this?" he snarled.

Minerva's eyes found the young girl once more, and her heart nearly broke. She was cowering in the kitchen, half hidden by the doorway. Her terrified features were framed by limp, dark hair, so dark it appeared almost black; her eyes were dull, nowhere near Lily's emerald green.

When she hesitantly nodded, Vernon all but growled out, "Fine. I'll deal with you later."

That was it. That was the last straw. Minerva couldn't bear to watch one more second of how these horrible people treated James and Lily's little girl. She whipped out her wand and stepped inside the house, causing Vernon and Petunia to scramble back in fear.

"You Muggles disgust me," Minerva spat. "The way you treat your niece is deplorable. You should be ashamed of yourselves." She raised her wand a little higher. "I am not above using magic on Muggles as vile as you."

Just as she thought, the Dursleys stopped fighting her immediately. They stood rooted to the spot, cowering in fear. Minerva nearly smirked - she'd had no intention of using magic on them, of course, but they didn't need to know that. She shifted her gaze to the head still poking out from the kitchen.

"Go quickly and get your Hogwarts letter," Minerva instructed, "and change into something a bit less… soiled, perhaps."

The words had barely left her mouth before the girl dashed around the corner into the cupboard under the stairs. Minerva blinked in surprise when she emerged not two minutes later with the letter clutched in her hand, wearing a slightly less appalling outfit.

Her hair was also back to Lily's vibrant red, Minerva noticed.

Then, with one last scowl at the Dursleys, Minerva set off from number four, Privet Drive with James and Lily's daughter in tow.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. If you did, maybe you wouldn't mind leaving me a quick review. I'd be very appreciative!**


End file.
